ad so as to be sure and wake up, but although
it went off she continued to slumber profoundly, as did Quentin. Archie
waked up sufficiently to tell me that he had found another turtle just
as small as the already existing treasure of the same kind. This morning
Quentin and Black Jack have neither of them been willing to leave me for
any length of time. Black Jack simply lies curled up in a chair, but
as Quentin is most conversational, he has added an element of harassing
difficulty to my effort to answer my accumulated correspondence.

Archie announced that he had seen "the Baltimore orioles catching fish!"
This seemed to warrant investigation; but it turned out he meant barn
swallows skimming the water.

The President not only sent "picture letters" to his own children, but
an especial one to Miss Sarah Schuyler Butler, daughter of Dr. Nicholas
Murray Butler, President of Columbia University, who had written to
him a little note of congratulation on his first birthday in the White
House.

White House, Nov. 3d, 1901.

DEAR LITTLE MISS SARAH,

I liked your birthday note _very_ much; and my children say I should
draw you two pictures in return.

We have a large blue macaw--Quentin calls him a polly-parrot--who lives
in the greenhouse, and is very friendly, but makes queer noises. He eats
bread, potatoes, and coffee grains.

The children have a very cunning pony. He is a little pet, like a dog,
but he plays tricks on them when they ride him.

He bucked Ethel over his head the other day.

Your father will tell you that these are pictures of the UNPOLISHED
STONE PERIOD.

Give my love to your mother.

Your father's friend,

THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

UNCLE REMUS AND WHITE HOUSE PETS

(To Joel Chandler Harris)

White House, June 9, 1902.

MY DEAR MR. HARRIS:

Your letter was a great relief to Kermit, who always becomes personally
interested in his favorite author, and who has been much worried by your
sickness. He would be more than delighted with a copy of "Daddy Jake."
Alice has it already, but Kermit eagerly wishes it.

Last night Mrs. Roosevelt and I were sitting out on the porch at the
back of the White House, and were talking of you and wishing you could
be sitting there with us. It is delightful at all times, but I think
especially so after dark. The monument stands up distinct but not quite
earthly in the night, and at this season the air is sweet with the
jasmine and honeysuckle.

All of